In this series, I explore the grassroots music scene, examining the key players, their roles, and the insights they can offer to Joyzine and its readers.
Wakefield based Jimmy Andrex has been described as creating poetry you can dance to. Laurie Anderson meets Sylvia Plath, Phillip Larkin joins Kraftwerk.
So who is Jimmy Andrex and how did you come up that name? Or is that
your real name?
My name is as real as I am. There might be another bloke who lives in my head along with the many uninvited characters who try and live there rent-free, but my alter-ego is a buttress that helps me stand back from the work.
In another life, it also insulated people at home from any consequences of being an artist, mainly, that I didn’t want people at work to know what I was doing and also, I didn’t want to bore family and friends to death with it.
One ambition, sadly not possible after the 2008 credit crash, was to get Jimmy Andrex a credit card. I almost managed it too.
As an artist of a certain age, how do you navigate age-related perceptions in the industry?
You are the age you are. I don’t think it helps to get grumpy. The world doesn’t need more grumpy old men convinced they’ve been passed over because of “political correctness.” (Hitler was a failed painter—just saying.)
I don’t enter age-based gigs or competitions. I’ve been patronised enough. I know a woman in her 70s doing battle raps—that’s her angle, and fair play. But I’d rather fail as me than succeed as not-bad-for-my-age.
Same goes for old bands. I don’t chase nostalgia. If you’re after “Teenage Kicks” at 60, it helps to remember what they meant to you at 16.
Your lyrics are cutting, but with lots of humour. You’re obviously well read, who would you say are your inspirations?
I’ve written since I was a kid but kept it quiet—wasn’t the sort of thing you brought up at school or in the changing room. My early stuff was rubbish, partly because I hadn’t read enough. You can’t write well without first recognising greatness in others.
Some people say they avoid reading poetry to “find their own voice,” but I don’t agree. Genius is out there, not just inside us.
Everyone has to go through a Doors phase—it’s like the 5 Stages of Grief. Mine ended with the realisation that Jim Morrison was basically a posh bloke with daddy issues.
Over time, I learned to appreciate poets like Betjeman, who I used to dismiss, but then read A Child Ill and saw its quiet brilliance. I rate Sylvia Plath, Auden, Larkin, and loads of the 1930s crowd (yes, lots of posh white men). These days, Joelle Taylor, Danez Smith, and Ross Sutherland are doing great things. Kae Tempest and Patti Smith are fascinating—amazing live, but not always on the page. Patti still doesn’t connect for me, and I’ve tried… three times.
I also love Mik Artistik, Jacques Brel, David Peace, Laurie Anderson, Stewart Lee, and non-fiction writers like John Higgs and David Kynaston.
Is it true, you once crowd surfed Orville in a blow up dingy?
Ah yeah, that was last week actually, at the Lucida Camden EMOM at the Dublin Castle. Let’s be honest, no one wants to see an old bloke pressing buttons and prancing around like a tit, so I like to add some kind of theatrics. I often have my good mate Bucktheorm dancing with me.
Jimmy Andrew socials | Youtube | Instagram | Bandcamp
Article by Mr Laurence
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